Time Capsule
by Butane Baby
Summary: Vegeta and Bulma's hearts and memories are stirred by a crimson-colored artifact, uncovered by their curious daughter, reminding them of their path to marriage. This is a one-shot sequel to "Bulma's Cold Misfortune," set seven years later, so the light humor and relaxed portrayals of the characters are similar.


"Dr. Brief, you have a private video call waiting in the lounge."

Obviously this was family, Bulma thought. She had left her smartphone and watch on her bed earlier that morning, purposely, but not because she expected interruptions from them. She was trying to avoid temptation to contact them regularly. She and half of her executive team were on a five-day work retreat 1,200 miles from West City, a relatively short distance depending on the transportation method used, but still far enough away to eliminate unnecessary distractions. She handpicked the secluded location, at a woodland resort hotel, with relaxing amenities for parents and fun activities for their kids.

Capsule Corporation employees gossiped among themselves about their boss not bringing her family too, although not disrespectfully. Bulma was a tough leader as well as a caring one. In some ways they hoped she would feel more comfortable having her relatives around more, but she maintained a strict separation between her public persona and private one. That would never change.

"Mom?"

"Hi, honey."

"I'm sorry to bother you. Is this a bad time?"

"Well, Bulla, I am running a meeting. We should be done around 4 p.m. Can it wait until then? You don't sound like the house is on fire."

"It's about daddy."

Bulma attempted to look over her daughter's head. No furniture seemed broken. "Did your father blow up someone – sorry, I meant _something_ \- and ask you not to tell anyone?"

"No..."

"Dr. Brief, you have about twenty minutes left before we begin again," a man's voice called from outside. "You should grab more food now. You barely had lunch."

She placed her portfolio and purse on the table. "Yes, I know. Just bring me two muffins and more juice and coffee quickly. I need to finish talking with my daughter."

"Yes, ma'am."

Bulma returned her attention to the screen. "Okay, sweetie. Sorry about that. What did Vegeta do that you felt concerned enough to call me?"

"Daddy didn't do anything. I think I did something wrong. He hasn't left your bedroom in hours, not even for training. Remember when I said I wanted to look at some of your old clothes? By the time he returned from his run this morning, I had a stack of dresses on your bed."

Bulma tapped her pen on the video control board to ease her growing impatience. "That doesn't sound like a problem, Bulla."

"Let me finish, mom. I was holding a dress I found in a storage capsule when daddy walked in. It was really pretty, but he asked me to give it to him. He didn't act angry or anything, but he looked upset. He just put his hand on my head and said he wanted time alone."

Bulma's mind went to work. Their tenth wedding anniversary was on this day, but they both agreed before she left two days earlier to celebrate quietly together after the retreat - meaning that their children would get kicked out for an evening of raunchy, raucous sex. Why would he be upset? Unless…

"Bulla, what was the dress color and who made it?"

"Red and Henri LeMarc."

Bulma ran her forefinger across her bottom lip. _Damn it._

"Mom?"

"You said Vegeta hasn't come out all day?"

"No. What's wrong?"

"That dress has special meaning for your father and me. It's… a private matter between us, but don't worry. He's not angry with you. When he comes out for food, because he will, just give him a big hug until he growls at you - and don't tell him you called me."

Looking ashamed, Bulla clasped her hands behind her back. "Okay."

Bulma kissed her fingers and touched the screen. "I love you, nosy girl, and you're banned from my closet for a month. It's full of stuff to check out without opening anything in storage, which I specifically said not to do."

"I'm really sorry. I love you too, mom."

"We're all good, sweetie. Bye now." Bulma reclined on the wall near the door, considering her next move. Nick, her executive assistant, soon returned looking concerned.

"Is Echalotte all right?"

"She's fine, honey, but I need to fly home. Help Joelle and Gregory run the meeting through the afternoon. I may not return tomorrow, either, so they should be ready to lead then too. I don't want to be disturbed by anyone unless the situation is mission critical. Everyone must go through you. Understand?"

"Understood." He took her hand. "Whatever it is, you and Vegeta will be fine."

"Were you eavesdropping?"

Nick paused to pick up her possessions and open the door. "Of course not. You know me better than that. We've worked together for almost as long as you two have been married. You have a different look when you worry about Vegeta versus the kids. Now go be with him."

Bulma suspected that her husband would be gone by the time she arrived at home. She had actually taken her time flying back to think through what she planned to say. The kitchen was spotless but still smelled of food. After checking her bedroom, she found their daughter reading on the floor in the family room.

"You're back?"

"Yeah. Did your father cook dinner early?"

Bulla circled around her mother, giggling, until Bulma pulled the rambunctious ten-year-old into her arms.

"He did, and it was good too, mom. I guess he's better, but he didn't say much. I'm sorry that I worried you."

"It's our anniversary anyway. Vegeta and I should be here together, and I have a feeling your hug helped him, just like it's doing now for me. Where is he?"

"He didn't say." Bulla returned to the floor. "He asked Trunks to come home early to hang out with me. He should be here soon."

"Okay, well, I think I know where he is. It will be late when we return, I expect, so don't wait up. We'll all go out for breakfast tomorrow. Do me a favor and tell your brother."

She frowned. "Are you and daddy going to argue?"

"No, darling. We're going to renew our marriage vows."

* * *

Vegeta's shoes were neatly positioned outside of the entrance to the temple leading to tournament grounds. She placed her heels next to them and lit two candles inside the walkway before approaching the rear. The land surrounding the fighting ring was muddy and wet and stamped with fresh footprints. She marched through each one, her tiny feet pressing the imprints down further. Vegeta stood in the middle of the ring with his back to her. The auric glow surrounding his body faded as he powered down from his Super Saiyan transformation.

"Happy anniversary."

" _Hn._ Calling it happy is a bit of a stretch. You didn't have to return - and get out of the mud, woman. It's chilly out here, and the last thing we need is you getting sick. I feel bad enough as it is."

"It's unsettling that you know my shoes are off without facing me, and people don't get viruses from being cold. It's a scientific fact, gorgeous."

Vegeta turned around and crossed his arms. " _Happy now?_ Now get out of the damn mud puddle before I leave you here to drown in it. I won't be responsible for what comes later." Defying his command, Bulma stomped around in the sludge, waving her right arm in the air like a fashion runway model.

Irritated, he flew over to carry her to the center with him. She stood with her hand on his chest until he placed it at her side and walked away.

"Boy, you really are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?"

"I could say the same about you," he replied grouchily. "I figured Bulla would contact you about what happened today, but how did you know I would be here?"

Bulma put her hands on her hips. "We've been married ten years and together for almost twenty, Vegeta. If we don't know each other by now, then one of us should find somewhere else to live."

Her attempts at humoring him rang hollow. He was angry, yet there was only so much outrage to which he felt entitled. The wind gusts throughout the arena whispered like ghosts, reciting what had been the demon prince's jeremiad: _"Tell me, is it slavery when you get what you want? Spend most of your life ruled by another! Watch your race dwindle to a handful - and then, tell me what has more meaning than your own strength?!"_

But he had been ruled by the worst of his ego when he allowed himself to become Majin several years before. Nothing else mattered that day when he betrayed those he loved most. The breathtaking strength it imbued clouded his fevered mind as it simultaneously intensified his body's power levels. Following the agonizing pain of the wizard's possession, the rush was the closest to a drug high that he had ever known. Even as his powers currently exceeded what he experienced then, he still remembered how _good_ that initial sensation felt. Bulma didn't know how frightening it was to crave that buzz sometimes, still, after years of mental and physical conditioning - and dedication to their family. He wanted to tell her but couldn't bring himself to.

"Why… did you keep it, Bulma? I didn't know what to say when I saw our daughter admiring that dress in our bedroom, of all places. Now, because of my poorly handled response, we're on the road to questions from her that I'm unready to answer. Neither are you."

"I should've been more careful. I'm sorry you found out this way."

"You should've been more careful?" He was floored. "Well, _that's_ the understatement of the year! 'Look forward to the future, Vegeta.' 'Live in the moment, Vegeta.' For years I've heard these platitudes from you, and now..."

"And not once - _not once_ \- have I asked you to forget any part your past to be in my life, Vegeta. _None of it._ So maybe you should reconsider expecting me to forget parts of mine. I also don't appreciate you twisting my words. I wouldn't have said those things - out of love and concern for you - if I didn't live by them myself."

"Oh really? What had you planned to do with that dress then? Use it as a talisman to repel another physically hideous sorcerer seeking to control me? No, wait - perhaps you go jogging with the fabric in your pockets, or maybe you sewed small pieces into my boxing shorts."

"Damn it, man!" Bulma flinched at her outburst. "I know you're hurt, but I _will not_ help you feel sorry for yourself. Not on this day. We've been through hell and back together _, literally._ Do you really think I want to be here now, in the middle of the night, watching you mentally relive your possession in slow motion?"

" _Then why have you kept the damn dress?!_ " Vegeta looked down as his voice choked with emotion. "I thought…I thought you had forgiven me. Are you still afraid that I might harm you or the kids? I suppose you have a right to be suspicious… even after so many years together."

She couldn't blame him for feeling traumatized, but they had to confront their insecurities together, as they had done for what seemed like an eternity. She embraced him from behind. Their hands interlaced as her body nestled gently into his back, like she was protecting him. She was protecting herself, too.

If only she could have held him like that back then, before everything happened.

 _Oh no. How could he? This is…too awful. There must be some mistake._

Vegeta's malevolent smile and maniacal laughter that horrible day haunted her nightmares for more than a year. Root-like veins crisscrossed his bulging, distorted musculature. Even she felt his immense power before a scorching blast from his right hand wrecked the arena. Frightened people scattered while her hands solemnly gripped the rail where she had been seated. She felt somewhat relieved that Trunks didn't witness it, before she fainted from sorrow and shock. He looked up to his dad so much.  
 _  
_Her friends tried to convince her to leave him there. She couldn't. He would be…alone, trapped in that wretched spiritual darkness. But he soon left her to chase those internal demons with Goku, the simple, naive man whose awesome powers and skills had shamed him in battle. His mental and physical exorcism during that epic fight with her best friend unleashed a greater danger upon the world, Majin Buu, leaving him with no choice. He had to redress his wrongs. He had caused this. Bulma was hiding from the monster with their friends, but somehow she felt Vegeta express his love and deep regret before his suicidal, sacrificial atonement. When his life was miraculously restored, because of the trust the gods put in him help save others, she felt overjoyed. The beast that had almost destroyed the universe had been conquered, along with Vegeta's clinging to the worst that he believed about himself. And yet, later, they struggled to make sense of it all. Their relationship's future hinged on whether she could fully forgive and trust him again. If she couldn't, then it was unlikely that he would ever forgive himself, not just for what happened with their family, but for other terrible acts that occurred before their union. Having his body and soul erased would have been more preferable.

She almost didn't forgive him.

* * *

"We should leave." He embraced his wife to relieve her shivering, which she welcomed. "It looks like it might rain soon. Let's get our shoes."

"Not yet," she replied, pushing a capsule into his palm. "Open this."

He said nothing as the silk dress fell from his hands. She stepped on it, scattering dried, caked mud everywhere.

"You did… look beautiful in it."

"Oh great." Holding back tears, Bulma laughed faintly and touched his forehead. "You would wait until now to tell me that, jackass."

"Give me a break," he snorted. "My timing is usually terrible with romantic clichés, but maybe this will help." He cupped her face with his hands, kissing her. In it she sensed a plea from him as well as gratefulness. They had shared this feeling together before, when they reconciled.

"Do you remember, years ago, when I was sick at home for a month after catching a cold from Bulla? You expressed shame over not acknowledging the extent of your love and need for me during Trunks' early childhood. You've worked hard to forgive yourself over many years, honey. We're married because of your sincerity and commitment to make things right. After our ordeal with Buu, strangely enough, I kept the dress as a reminder of my vow to support you. It took time to find our way back to each other then, but we did, and I'm a woman who keeps her word as much as you have kept yours. You are…my heart, and I know I'm yours."

He pulled her in closer. "I'm sorry."

She nodded and kissed him as he wiped her face. "It's okay, and I understand why you became upset. You know, I've only seen you cry twice since we've been together. The first was when you begged for forgiveness, after we returned home and you admitted what you did. I was so incredibly angry, but we still held each other in that moment. Our tears are on that dress."

"Damn it." Vegeta smirked at her. "I had no idea there was a second time. Was I drunk?"

" _No, you fool_. It happened after I gave birth to our daughter, when you thought I was asleep."

"Yes, I remember. You were exhausted. Holding Echalotte and seeing you lie there, having endured that kind of pain, was overwhelming."

She lifted his chin. "I was… so proud of you, my prince."

The stars illuminated her clear blue eyes. The strength of this feisty, captivating woman fueled his tenacity in ways she didn't fathom. He loved her more than he thought himself capable of loving anyone in life, and he wanted to make love to her right there. His hand slipped around his wife's thigh, provoking a soft, willing sigh. Their bodies and minds were made for each other. She ran her hands along his chest tenderly while he lifted his head to observe the heavens. His husky baritone voice echoed through the arena as he laughed and laughed. _This_ is what joy felt like. He raised Bulma just enough above his head to slowly kiss her from the neck down.

Then he sensed something else.

 _This boy has always been good for spoiling my fun._

Trunks wasn't a child anymore, but his presence brought back memories of multiple "accidental" pre-lovemaking disturbances. Once his son turned eleven, Vegeta became suspicious of the increased regularity of these interruptions. He wisely concluded that Trunks was running interference to reduce the chance of having a younger sibling. Their blunt discussion afterward was one part parental reassurance and two parts brutal training that left the boy silent and bow-legged for a week. Two years later, Bulla was born.

"He's right on time," Bulma said sarcastically.

Vegeta lifted his head from her chest. "Like fucking clockwork."

Smiling impishly, the young man waved at them from the entrance. "I know it's your anniversary and all, but really, must you two grope each other like... _that_? Can't you act like normal old people and hold hands on a porch somewhere?"

"At least I married my longtime girlfriend," Vegeta shouted, mocking him effortlessly. "You can't even get a date with your baby sister's robotic dolls. I almost feel sorry for you, but that only goes so far with such glaring incompetence. You have our genes, smart ass. Our job is through."

Laughing, Bulma propped her arm on his shoulder. "Oh, that one burned. Great job, babe!"

Trunks was nowhere near finished with his cheeky harassment, though. "Hey, mom, don't tell me you're aiming for a 'last hurrah' baby with that guy either. You're up there in years, and I still have an inheritance to protect."

Shaking his head, Vegeta covered his face with his hand. _My son is an idiot._

"You _ungrateful_ brat!" Bulma leaped forward, which her husband promptly blocked. Her arms and legs flailed like windmills until he gently shook her body motionless. "It took endless hours to give birth to you, and this is the thanks I get?!"

"Calm yourself," Vegeta whispered in her ear. "Do not allow this unworthy opponent to provoke you. His youth makes him brash and reckless like we once were. As our progeny, we must offer him an honorable death."

He then shot Trunks a warning look to speak with him mentally. _"Dude, are you trying to get yourself poisoned? You know exactly what this woman is capable of. She'll wait until you're comfortable and strike like a cobra! Now get your narrow ass over here and apologize like you mean it."_

" _Aw, dad, I was just having a little fun."_

 _"Yeah, and that's why you spent forty percent of your childhood grounded. Now clean up your mess before Bulma figures out that we're talking telepathically."_

He flew toward them with dampened towels for cleaning their feet. "I'm sorry, mom. My joking went too far."

Bulma's expression softened at his thoughtful gesture. "How did you know we would need these?"

"A groundskeeper gave them to me after I walked through the main entrance. He said you must have a good reason for being here, especially with your shoes removed, so he planned to leave them for you."

Trunks surveyed the dress beneath Bulma's feet. Then he looked up at his father.

"Did Echalotte ask more questions when you arrived, son?"

"Not really, dad. I think she's fine for now – curious, but fine. Mom said this was a personal matter between you."

Vegeta exhaled. "None of this would've happened had I kept my emotions in check."

Bulma touched his hand. "Don't forget. I shoulder some blame."

These two had come farther than anyone thought they would, Trunks thought. Even he wondered through adolescence whether another shoe would drop to shatter their relationship's foundation. They presented a strong front while raising him, but he recognized early on how vulnerable they remained. He believed he could have handled it, but he wasn't sure his parents would have fared well without each other. Bulla's birth and maturation were the linchpins that further cemented their intimate bond. He was genuinely happy for them.

"Look, guys, apparently you got through whatever concerns you needed to work out. I'm glad. Now that I feel like I know what happened, all I want to say is I support you. When you're ready to share the rest with Bulla, I'll be by your side. We made it through the worst of that time together. If you don't think you can't, then I can with your permission. It might be easier for her to speak freely if the news comes from me first."

Vegeta and Trunks placed their hands on each other's shoulders. The elder Saiyan closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Everything will be fine, father. " He shook him and smiled. "You've been free for a long time. _We're free_."

Bulma looked down. "I think it's time to move on, boys. I'm cold, and this clothing has outlived its usefulness."

The men glanced each other as she stepped aside. Vegeta raised a fiery finger toward the dress, followed by Trunks.

* * *

***End***


End file.
